by Logan Fox
“I said, I guess you didn’t know?”
“No.” His voice came out rougher than he’d intended. He took another sip. “You think I’d still have…” he waved a hand. “Come on.”
“Well, someone had to do it,” Lars said.
“Are you fucking smiling?” Finn glared at him.
Lars shrugged. “So you deflowered her. Is that it? That’s what all these…” he waved his hands around, almost spilling his drink “…these feels are about?”
Finn didn’t answer him. How could he? Lars knew nothing but his beast. How it had responded to taking Cora that first time. The blood lust it had filled him with.
No one could ever know.
No one.
“She’s too young.”
“Meh,” Lars said. “Banged a chick ten years younger than me once.”
“It’s not a fucking competition, Lars.”
Lars snorted. “You’ll get over her.”
“Of course,” Finn murmured.
But he wouldn’t, of course. How could he? In his bitter world, she was sweet as candy. Her innocence, her vulnerability…he ached to steal it from her. Perhaps, in some way, he craved what she had. No fucking clue. Not about men, the world, anything.
What would it feel like, that naivety? He’d imagine it would be a kind of freedom. Living in a world where bad things only ever happened to bad people. A world where, if you were good, the good times just kept rolling in.
Finn couldn’t look at Lars anymore. Not until the concern faded from his friend’s eyes.
Instead, he looked at the swimming pool, trying to make out the third person in the tryst. And then he recognized the man, and his stomach twisted.
Javier. The woman? Silvia. And the third? She swam forward as if hearing Finn’s question, slung an arm around Silvia’s shoulders, and whispered something in the woman’s ear.
Ana.
Finn stood. “Where’s Cora?”
“And there he goes,” Lars muttered angrily. “I was so proud of you, Milo. What was that, a whole hour you went without thinking about her?”
“Ana’s supposed to be with her.”
“She is? Wait, who’s Ana?”
Finn turned a glare on Lars, who crooked a smile at him. “If Ana’s over there—” Finn stabbed toward the pool “—then where’s Cora?”
Lars ducked his head to see where Finn was pointing, let out another low whistle and sat back in his lounger. “Jesus, I hope she’s not with them. That would be kinda weird.”
He felt like throwing his tumbler. But that might make Javier turn and see him and Lars.
Fuck knew what would happen then.
He turned on his heel and left the patio, pushing past a pair of men that were heading outside. They murmured something in Spanish that might have been a curse, but he ignored them just as he ignored Lars calling his name.
When he found his way to the gardens, he stared at the floral architecture for the longest time as he slowly walked through the maze-like paths that trailed through it. There were several love seats and small picnic areas scattered throughout. Fountains, pools, even what looked like a small paved labyrinth, the type where you traced the path with your feet.
His glass was long empty when he heard footsteps. At first, he thought it was Lars, but the footfalls were too soft, and too close together.
A maid appeared around the hedged corner of the small alcove he sat in. She dipped her head and murmured, “Dinner is ready, Mr. Finn. Please, follow me.”
Voices filtered out through the partially closed dining room door as they drew near. Then a laugh—one Finn instantly recognized.
Cora.
The maid opened the door and stepped aside so he could walk through.
The dining room was lit by a dozen tiny lights hidden within a massive, glittering chandelier that probably had eighteen-carat fucking diamonds on it. And gold plating. It certainly shone bright enough. There were candles on the table. Each in its own elaborate, golden candle holder.
He’d obviously missed the invitation to the fucking cocktail party.
When he scanned the table, looking for that now-familiar tangle of dark hair, he couldn’t find her. His brain felt fogged up, and the rum was only partially to blame. He was as confused about his feelings for Cora as Lars was. Another slow scan, this time for Cora’s face. He found it under a dark, glossy head of hair that hung in a straight curtain around her face. It made her look years older than she was, as did the slinky dress she wore. And the makeup. It wasn’t blatant, but he couldn’t remember her lips being that shade of muddy red or her brows so perfectly arched.
Her eyes glowed like molten gold.
Javier sat at the head of the table, Cora to his right and Silvia to his left. Ana sat beside Cora, and the two had their heads together. So absorbed were they in their conversation that Finn was busy taking his seat across from her before Cora looked up.
Her eyes locked onto his. The wide smile she’d had for Ana softened into an expression he didn’t know. Expectation?
She sat forward a little, as if waiting for something. For what? For him to compliment her on her transformation from the scruffy, dusty Cora he knew into this…this…
“Christ, you look good enough to eat,” Lars said, scraping back his chair loudly enough to cut through everyone’s conversation. He must have come in just behind Finn. Lars dropped down, and then slapped the back of his hand into Finn’s stomach. “Doesn’t she clean up good?”
Finn grunted, but as soon as he tore his eyes away from Cora’s slowly saddening face, he made sure not to look at her again.
What had made him think Cora would be in danger? This had always been her life; a palace, designer clothes, perfect hair. He’d been the one to drag her through the dust. To tangle her hair.
He’d been ready to drag Cora out of here and demand she tell him what all of this meant. Why he couldn’t get her out of his head.
But all that anger, all that frustration…it eked away the longer he sat in this fancy dining hall with its mesmerizing chandelier. Javier’s voice competed with Silvia’s. Lars would break into laughter every few minutes, and Cora would let out the occasional giggle, belying whatever sophistication her new look had brought.
Finn sat in silence, feeling too big and too rough for this place with its delicate china and paper-thin wine glasses.
After barely touching his food, he pushed away his plate and nudged Lars’s arm with a knuckle.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“What? Now?” Lars pointed to his plate. A second helping, almost as big as the first, was in danger of falling off the rim of his plate. “I’m still—”
“Is there a problem?” Javier called out.
Silence cut through the chatter like a sharpened knife. Finn caught Javier’s eye, held it. The man had long since finished his food, but he still cradled a half-empty wine glass in one hand, the other draped over the glowing white tablecloth in front of him. Silvia had been leaning in to speak to him, and she twisted to watch Finn over the rim of her glass.
Had he really been in the garden long enough for them all to dry and dress? For Cora’s transformation? His head spun. He felt like he was trapped in some fairytale palace, the one where time stood still and no one could leave because of the curse some witch had spun on them.
“We’re leaving,” Finn said, standing in a rush.
Javier shook his head. “This time of night?” He made a wide gesture with his hand. “It is pitch black outside. Like the inside of a cat, I believe the expression is.”
“Are you going to stop me?” Finn asked.
A cold light entered Javier’s eyes, but it vanished a second later. Cora sat forward in a rush, elbows on the table, staring first at Finn and then at Javier. Mouth slowly falling open.
“Tío?”
“It’s Javier, child,” Martin muttered. And then he smiled. Widely, deeply. “Of course I won’t stop you, Mr. Finn. But the guards patrolling my
compound just might.” He set his wineglass down and rose slowly, straightening his suit. That dark blue fabric gleamed with hidden textures; it probably cost more than Finn was paid in a year.
“Fuck it,” Lars muttered. “I haven’t even had dessert.”
“We’ll stop for a goddamn vanilla shake,” Finn snapped back, and then wished he hadn’t. He sounded petty, and unnerved, and it was making his beast stir. And with it, a wave of anxiety. The walls slid closer like they were wired to some hidden mechanism he’d triggered by announcing his intention to leave.
“Finn, please. Stay,” came Cora’s voice.
His eyes flickered to her. When she got to her feet, the colors in the rest of the room faded like she’d absorbed their pigments. He’d barely noticed the shape of her while they’d been on the run. There hadn’t been time. But now there was no way not to take her in. Her curves, the glow of her skin.
When he realized he hadn’t inhaled for too long, he swallowed hard and took a step back. Hoping that he could escape from her aura and get his fucking senses back.
It didn’t work.
“You haven’t stopped,” she said.
Was it just his imagination, or had her voice changed too? Growing deeper, huskier. Then he noticed her flushed cheeks. The lights sparkling in her eyes. She was tipsy. Maybe even drunk.
“It’s been a week and you haven’t stopped once.” She lifted a slim hand, taking in the villa. “You’re safe now.” She pressed those fingers to her collar bone. “I’m safe now. Take a day. You deserve it.”
Like he was some kind of sick and needed his boss’s fucking permission for a day’s sick leave.
He knew the thought was irrational, but everything about this place, these people, was getting under his skin. He’d never been good in company. Never good with social etiquette. Give him a rifle—any fucking rifle—and he’d field strip it under fifteen seconds. But this? He didn’t have the experience for this fucking shit.
Finn took another step back. Cora’s face shifted to disappointment, and he felt that like nails dragging through his skin. If Lars hadn’t snatched at him, he would have turned and walked out the door.
“Neither of us should be driving,” Lars said, just loud enough for Finn to hear. “You know that, Milo.”
He did, of course. He still wasn’t right in the head. His thoughts were still insubstantial and flimsy things.
He sank back into his chair. Defeated. Deflated.
And, when he looked at Cora again, when those gold-flecked eyes held his. Perfectly innocent. Utterly naive.
Yes…let’s stay.
30
A pleasant dinner with good company
She’d had too much to drink. Everyone at the table had, even Finn. Cora watched him under lowered lashes as he tossed back a tumbler of rum. He’d descended into a dark, brooding silence after his friend had urged him to sit down again. She was glad he was staying, but at the same time his presence made the air sticky with the anticipation of violence.
Cora smiled to herself. That was something she’d come to expect with Finn. Violence. Anger. Misery. He wasn’t a happy man, but she’d never really known happy men, had she? Only Bailey, who’d always been ready with a smile for her.
But not her father. At least, not after Naomie and Sophia’s deaths.
Her Unc—Javier was probably the closest thing to a happy person she knew. The few times she’d seen him—the one time she could remember him sharing a meal with her family, when that family had consisted of more than just two people—had been a man with a laughing face and bright eyes. Even now, his carefree joy was as intoxicating as her glass of wine.
“You!” Javier called out.
Lost in her thoughts, she turned to Javier expecting that he’d been calling her. But he had a hand up, gesturing impatiently to one of the servants standing like guards at the entrance to the dining room.
The woman hurried to his side, bobbing a curtsy for all the world like he was a duke, and then leaned close so he could whisper something in her ear. Then another curtsy, and she was scurrying from the room as fast as she could without breaking into a run.
Javier stood. He spread his arms wide to take in his handful of guests. “I think a celebration is in order.”
Ana laughed, and then cut off the sound with her hand. She’d been intent on teaching Cora how to keep herself in the threshold between drunk and tipsy, but it seemed it was something she hadn’t managed to master herself yet. The woman’s cheeks were as dark as if she’d rouged them. The serving woman returned less than a minute later, a bottle of champagne under one arm and a saber in the other. She brought both over to Javier, who gave her a fond smile before flicking his fingers to dismiss her. He turned to the assembled crowd and held the champagne up in one hand, the saber with the other.
The champagne looked to be one of those expensive ones, the saber something long and silver that gleamed in the light thrown down by the chandelier.
When Cora glanced across at Finn, she saw that he wasn't looking at her, just Javier. There was nothing she could read from his expression, but apprehension still filled the air. Perhaps it was the saber Javier held that was so intimidating. Or perhaps it was just her uncle’s posture; proud and arrogant and so full of himself.
"It’s not every day that I receive such an honored guest at my humble home," Javier said. He cast a look at Cora, holding onto her gaze for what seemed like an eternity before looking back at the champagne bottle in his hands. He hoisted the bottle theatrically, and sliced at it with the saber. The cork and about an inch of the bottle flew over the top of the dining room table, and came to land at the foot of the servant who had brought to him. She took a step back, as if worried that the cork might jump up and bite her.
Javier held the streaming bottle over the champagne flutes that another servant had placed on the table beside him. Cora took her flute from the servant when he past it to her and gave it a hesitant sip. What if glass had gotten inside when Javier had sliced off the neck?
Finn gulped on his champagne, and set the flute down hard enough that Cora was surprised that it didn’t crack. He rose, turned to Javier, and said, "Good night."
Javier looked across at him in surprise, and put his fingertips against his chest. "Leaving so soon, Mr. Finn?"
Finn straightened, but didn't say anything in return. Javier nodded once and waved a hand at one of the servants. The man came to his side, and Javier murmured something to him under his breath. Finn followed the man out, not looking back at anyone in the room. For a moment, cold poured into the room as if Finn's presence had kept the warmth inside. And then conversation started up again, as rowdy and carefree as if Finn had never left. Perhaps even more so, now that he’d left.
She tried to get back into her conversation with Anna, but she couldn't concentrate on anything the woman said. Eventually, Ana gave up trying to talk to her, and moved around the table to sit beside Lars.
Cora fidgeted with his silver ware until one of the servants came to clear the table. That was when Javier’s conversation with Sylvia ended, and he turned to her. He studied her for a while, and the longer he did so, the more she blushed.
What was he thinking?
“Ana, you’ve done a spectacular job,” Javier murmured, reaching out to run his fingertips down Cora’s sleek hair. “She looks breathtaking.”
Ana’s only response was a giggle. Then she was back to her conversation with Silvia, whose eyes were heavy lidded with drink.
“I have much to discuss with you,” Javier said.
Cora blinked hard. “With me?”
“Of course.” Javier sat back, spreading his arms wide. “You are Eleodora Rivera.”
It was as if he was expecting something, so she shrugged.
“You don’t know what that means yet,” he said, almost chidingly, “but you will. You must. Just because that name means nothing to you, does not mean it has become meaningless to others.”
Something approac
hing irritation bloomed inside her. Just when she’d thought all this shit was over and done with. She’d been happy for all of three, maybe four, hours. And now this.
She rose, pushing away her chair hard enough to draw everyone’s gaze. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll go to bed, if that’s all right.”
Javier gave her a long, slow smile. “Of course, mi reinita.” He twitched his hand as he laid it on the table. “Mi casa, su casa. Ana?” He turned to the blond woman, and gestured lazily at Cora. “Will you escort Elle back to her room?”
“I know where it is,” Cora said, starting for the door.
“Please, Elle. As safe as this haven of mine is, I would prefer I knew if you didn’t get lost along the way.”
“I’ll take her,” Lars said, standing and waving a hand at Ana who’d started getting to her feet. “Please. I insist.”
Javier gave Lars a gracious nod, and then beckoned Ana and Silvia to his side as he also got to his feet. “A pleasant dinner with good company,” Javier said, staring straight at Cora. “The first of many.” He draped an arm around each woman and left the dining room ahead of them, nuzzling his face first into Silvia’s neck and then Ana’s. Ana giggled, and Silvia squeezed his ass, her long nails glittering under the light of the chandelier.
Cora let out a sigh, and slumped back in her chair as Lars’s let out a low whistle.
“Got some interesting relatives, bunny.”
“He’s not my real uncle,” she said. Hadn’t she said that before? Her brain felt like the thin soup they’d been served as an appetizer.
She left the dining room, heading toward the staircase. She heard Lars’s boots stomping on the flagstones as he followed her.
A night flower was blooming somewhere in the courtyard. She glanced over the exquisite garden. One of the larger fountains tinkled gaily with splashing water. Aphrodite, standing on a shell, just her hair for clothing. Another statue, more to the side and partially obscured by a dense climbing vine, caught her eye. A robed figure, facing away from Cora. Something about the way the statue had been positioned seemed important, but it was too far away for her to make out anything.
